Page 19 of Point of Mercy

“I’m not!” She turned beseeching eyes up to him. “Believe me, Turner. Just trust me.”

He wanted to. She could see the passion stirring in his night-darkened eyes. And yet he held back, his fingers surrounding her wrist in a death grip, his emotions twisted on his face. “Don’t play with me.”

“I wouldn’t,” she said, and all at once his arms were around her, his lips molded over hers in a kiss that robbed the breath from her lungs.His lips were warm and supple and his tongue gained easy access to her mouth when she parted her lips.

Her thoughts swirled and blended with the night and a warm ache started somewhere deep in her abdomen. He explored and tasted and she moaned softly, unconsciously winding her arms around his neck, pressing her body closer still, feeling her nipples grow taut.

Groaning, he dragged them both to the ground, to the soft bed of bent grass and fragrant flowers, and still kissing her, he slowly removed her T-shirt, kissing the tops of her breasts, rimming the circle of bones at her throat with his tongue, creating a vortex of heat in her center that she didn’t protest as his hand slid beneath the waistband of her jeans and toyed with the lacy edge of her panties.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his breath ragged against her ear.

She kissed him hard on the lips and he let out a deep sigh, the flat of his hand pressed intimately to her lower abdomen.

“I mean it, Heather, because if we don’t stop now, I won’t be able to.”

It was already too late for her. The fires within her had been stoked and now were white-hot and ready to explode. She pulled his head back to hers and kissed him with parted lips. “Don’t ever stop,” she whispered into his opened lips.

His hand slid deeper into her jeans, teasing the apex of her legs, creating a liquid need so intense that she was squirming and writhing beneath him. In the darkness, he smiled. “Take it easy, darlin’,” he drawled, kissing the beads of sweat dampening her forehead.“We’ve got all night.”

His lips found hers again, and he began his magic. Hands, callused and rough, were gentle as they unclasped her bra and held her breasts, pushing the soft mounds together, kissing her skin and causing her nipples to turn to hard little nubs.

“That’s a girl,” he whispered before his mouth closed over one dark peak and he teased and played, his tongue and teeth nipping and laving until the pressure within her was so hot she bucked beneath him.

He stripped her of her jeans, his large hands sculpting her buttocks, his face buried in the soft flesh of her abdomen.

Heather’s mind was spinning; she’d never been so reckless, never wanted more of the touch, feel and taste of any man. He guided her fingers to the buttons of his shirt, and she quickly undressed him, her hands running eagerly over the sinewy strength of his muscles.

His fingers tangled in her hair and she ran her palms down the springy hair that covered parts of his chest. His lips were on hers again and he kicked off his jeans. The back of her throat tightened at the sight of him—she’d never seen a man completely naked before. A warning pierced her mind, but she ignored it.

“I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you skinny-dipping in the river,” he admitted, kissing her eyes, her lips, her throat and moving lower still.

“And I wanted you,” she whispered, her mind racing in romantic fantasies of a cowboy and his lady. She wound her arms around his neck as he settled over her, gently prodding her knees apart.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked again, though his voice shook and his control seemed held by a rapidly fraying thread.

“Oh, yes, Turner. Yes.”

He kissed her forehead and eyes before his mouth claimed hers with a possession that reached to her very soul. She felt him shift, the tensing of the muscles of his back as he entered her. She cried out, for the pain was blinding, but he didn’t stop, and with each thrust thereafter the pain lessened, balmed with pleasure, driving all thoughts from her mind as she gazed up at him. His hair fell over his forehead and his body was backdropped by the jewel-like stars. She met each of his strokes with her own increasing tempo, and without realizing it, she clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

With a shivering explosion, he climaxed. She, too, convulsed in a shattering, dizzy burst of color and light that erupted behind her eyes and sent shock waves through her limbs.

“Heather, sweet lady,” he whispered between tattered breaths.

“Oh, Turner, I love you,” she cried, holding him close, listening to the wild cadence of his heart, smelling the earth and water and wind on his skin.

“Shh.” He kissed her so tenderly that she thought she would die.

Tears sprang to her eyes for the cowboy and all the pain he’d suffered. She would change things—change him. No longer would he have to wear a cynical shield…she would be there.

Slowly he rolled off her and cradled her in his arms.Together, without a sound, they watched the shooting stars streak through the heavens and listened to the soft sounds of their horses plucking grass, bridles jangling quietly, hoofs muffled by the thick turf of the meadow.

“You didn’t tell me you were a virgin,” he finally said.

“You never asked.”

“I just assumed that…” His voice drifted off.

“You assumed that because I’d been engaged, I’d experimented with sex,” she finished for him. “Well, it didn’t happen.”

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